


Anticipation

by GoodJanet



Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Breakfast, Drinking & Talking, Drunken Confessions, First Time, First Time Bottoming, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, M/M, Pet Names, Resolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 07:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4513791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodJanet/pseuds/GoodJanet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's been trying to get Al to notice him, but nothing he's tried has worked until now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anticipation

“Hey, Al?”

Al puts down the bottle they’re sharing after taking a long drink. No matter how much time has passed since leaping, he always wants to hear what the kid has to say, no matter how drunk or exhausted either of them were.

“Yeah, Sam?”

Sam licks his lips, brows furrowed as if he’s deep in thought. Al doesn’t think he’s ever seen him drunk before. He looks a little shaky and a little bit sweaty and achingly vulnerable. He thinks about tipping him onto his back and kissing and licking him, but he doesn’t. It wouldn’t be right to kiss his pouting lips or tug off those tight jeans when that was probably the furthest thing from Sam’s mind. Still, the idea stirs up some delicious imagery.

“I’m glad I have you in my life.”

Al pats the thigh that is closest to him as they sit on the floor of Al’s living room. He might have lingered a bit, but Sam doesn’t mention it. Maybe he doesn’t even notice.

“Well, not to sound too mushy, but I’m glad I have you too.”

Sam probably didn’t even know what he was saying. He was going to have a hell of a hangover.

“No, I mean it. What I'm trying to say is that I don't feel platonic when I'm around you. And I know I shouldn’t have said anything, but it was driving me crazy. I’m sorry. I just wanted you to know. I know how you can get about this kind of thing.”

Sam reaches for the bottle again, but Al stops him. Al knew when enough was enough, and the kid had definitely reached his limit. He had a sheen, a glow even, to his skin that, while tempting, was indication to cut him off. But he also wanted to hear where Sam was going with his ramblings.

“Kid, nothing you could ever tell me would make me leave you. I’m always here to help you. You should know that by now.”

Sam looks at him like a lost puppy, and he tries not to let it break his heart.

“We’ll figure it out, okay? I don’t want to see you get sappy drunk on me.”

Sam rubs his eyes and nods.

“I just wanna stay here with you.”

Sam scoots closer to Al until he’s leaning his head against his shoulder.

“You can stay as long as you want.”

Sam nods against him, burrowing his face into his shirt like an animal. A poor, lost little deer who was hiding from the unknown. There had been this new thing Sam had been doing where he’d get a little (or a lot) tipsy and would suddenly need to be in physical contact with him. After leaping, Sam wanted to go out more often, strangely enough, and the alcohol would flow, and suddenly Sam would be hugging him or gripping his hand and, on a couple of notable occasions, had gone in for a kiss on the cheek when there were enough people and movement for Al to question if it had been Sam or not. 

He was certain that it was him, but he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be doing about it. If he was with a woman who was flirting that hard, he knows he would have already fucked her. There was no denying that. But with Sam, it was different. Sam might be interested, but he’s never explicitly said one way or the other. And it's hard to seal the deal when the other person isn’t being clear.

“Al?”

“Hm?” Al answers, taking another swig of beer.

“What else do I have to do to get you to notice me?”

And god if _that_ wasn’t a punch to the gut. He was making it sound like he didn’t even care about him. And he sounded so sad, too. So lost. It made him recall that empty feeling of serial dating and all the marriages that never went anywhere, and he would never wish those feelings onto anyone, especially not Sam.

“Are you kidding me? How can I not notice you? It’s been the two of us for years, kid.”

Sam sits up again with the intention of looking Al in the eye.

“Then why won’t you kiss me? You sleep with all those girls, but you won’t even kiss me.”

Al knew he was known for being a slag, but Jesus, the kid was killing him with that kind of needy, jealous talk. The look of longing in his eyes made his dick stand up and pay attention. If he didn’t know Sam better, he’d say Sam was throwing himself at him.

“Is that what you want? You want me to fuck you, Sam?”

Sam ducks his head as his cheeks erupt in flames. His head might feel bubbly, but he knew dirty words when he heard them. And even if he was a little dizzy, it was equal parts embarrassing and wonderful to hear those words directed at him.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, it is.”

Al moves in close to him, hands creeping up Sam’s shoulders and gently pressing him down to the carpet before moving to straddling him. Sam whimpers when their cocks rub against each other. It feels so good. All of it does: the drinks, the smell and feel of Al on top of him, the tingles running throughout his entire body.

Al leans over Sam’s body, mouth centimeters away from his. Al taunts him with pecks around his lips and over his cheeks before Sam whimpers again:

“More.”

Their mouths meet, and it’s hot and wet and Sam’s mouth is a little slack from excitement and being a little drunk, but Al doesn’t mind. He just eats up the tiny noises Sam offers him with a smile.

“I want you,” Sam murmurs.

Sam’s hands run up his back, and Al bites his neck. He was greedy that way. He wanted to remind people the next day and the next and the next that he had been there. And now everyone would know that Sam had been claimed too. Al shivers and rubs himself against Sam again. Anything to elicit those wonderful whimpers.

“What do you want, Sam?”

“I want you in me.”

Sam’s face is a cherry tomato, and Al would swear he’d never seen anything sexier than Sam being ashamed of his desire.

“You’re not kidding, are you? Then let’s get you out of your clothes. What do you say to that, honey?”

Sam snorts.

“ _Honey_?”

“’Cause no one’s sweeter than you.”

“Al.”

He says it with such a mixture of loving and loathing, that Al calls him it again.

“You’re my honey.”

“That is _not_ my new nickname.”

Al kisses him to shut him up. It does the trick for a while. But then Sam’s clothes and his own are sort of hindering proceedings, and Sam tells him to hurry up. Al is quick to undo each button on Sam’s shirt before proceeding to cover his chest in just as much attention that he gave to Sam’s lips and neck. His hands glide over well-defined pecs and through the hair on his chest. Soft skin and warm muscle contract in delight at the attention. And he finds Sam’s nipples to be quite sensitive, if his gasps of pleasure are anything to go by.

“Oh god, Al. I need more. Please?”

Sam is hard as a rock underneath him, and just knowing that he was the one making him feel this way was enough to make him groan. The things this kid could do to him, all these mixed emotions and sensations were enough to drive him crazy. But he’s always had a soft spot for Sam, and he never wanted him to want for anything. Al has always felt it was his responsibility to give him anything he needed. And right now the kid needed him.

“Alright, Sam. Easy. I can’t do anything until I get you wet.”

Sam feels like his brain is short circuiting. He quashes the urge to chastise Al for speaking so crassly. God, the mental images of getting wet for Al were doing things to his gut and groin like nothing else.

“Okay. But hurry.”

Al smiles ruefully as he stands.

“And let’s go to my bedroom, huh? As much I’d like to ravish you right here, I’m not twenty-five anymore.”

Neither of them waste any time. Al enters his bedroom just in time to see Sam strip himself of his jeans, until he’s standing there in only his boxers. Al’s gaze immediately travels south, and he’s not disappointed when he gets a better look at Sam’s dick. He has to remind himself to stay focused, or he’d never make it to the good the part. He deposits the lube on his nightstand for later.

“Al, you’re wearing too many clothes.”

“I can fix that. No problem.”

Sam sits on the edge of Al’s bed, watching Al toss his shoes and tie in random directions, letting them fall where they so chose. Al does, however, carefully remove his suspenders, which Sam finds kind of erotic. There’s something about the fluid way that Al does it that makes him lick his lips. Maybe one day he’d just reach out and grab him by a strap and kiss him until he couldn’t breathe.

“Where were we?” Al asks with what Sam assumes is supposed to be a seductive eyebrow wiggle.

It only makes him laugh.

“Oh, is that funny to you?”

Al stands with his hands on his hips, in only his boxers too, looking ready to fight him. Sam laughs harder.

“Just a little, Al.”

“You’re a little brat.”

Al tackles him on the bed and kisses him again to make him shut his mouth. He loves the sound of Sam’s laughter, of course, but this was about honor! Al Calavicci was well-known for his sexual prowess, and he was not about to have some upstart from Indiana tarnish his good name. He’d show him. He’d see soon enough.

“You need to learn some bedroom manners, Sam.”

“Me?”

“Yes. You should know better than to laugh at a man who’s putting it out on the line, you know. You can’t interrupt a guy in the middle of a seduction.”

“Are you gonna put me in my place?”

“Damn straight, kid.”

Al reaches over to grab the tube of jelly.

“Speaking of,” Al continues. “Have you ever done this?”

Sam grabs Al by the back of his thighs to rub against him again.

“You mean have I ever been fucked before?”

“Jesus, Sam,” Al groans.

Since when did he talk like that? Since when did Sam use those kinds of dirty, awful, beautiful, filthy words? Was it Sam’s one too many drinks? Was it a heat of the moment kind of deal? Whatever the reason, he hopes he keeps it up.

“Well, come on. Don’t keep me waiting, Admiral.”

That ignites a fire in him like no other. The slow kissy part was over, as far as Al was concerned. He moves quickly to pull off their boxers, leaving them exposed to each other.

“One day, Sam, when I’ve got more patience than I have right now, I’m going to suck your pretty little cock until you don’t know your left from you’re right.”

Sam moans and thrusts upwards, so Al takes that as his cue to open the tube of lube for the real fun to begin.

Prepping Sam is amazing in and of itself. The kid is just so damn _responsive_ to every touch, and the sounds he makes are like music to his ears. And when he finds that secret spot inside him, he makes the sweetest gasp of pleasure and surprise that he does it again and again just to keep hearing it.

“Al, Al, please. You gotta stop. I want you in me.”

“I am in you, kid,” Al says, pressing his fingers inside him once more.

“You know what I mean!”

Sam writhes a little on the bed, and Al gives up on the idea of teasing him. It was just as unbearable for him to wait as it probably was for Sam. Al parts Sam’s knees and settles himself properly between his thighs. With gentle hands, he holds Sam’s face in his hands and moves his forelock away from his face.

“Are you sure that you’re sure about this, Sam? I don’t want you to do something you don’t want to do. Not ever.”

“I’m sure that I’m sure.”

“And you’re not just jumping into bed with me because you had too much to drink?”

“Al, I’m not so drunk that I don’t know what I’m doing. Just drunk enough to work up the courage to say I wanted this. I want you.”

Al kisses Sam’s delectable lips and grabs the discarded tube from the other side of the bed and uses some to slick himself up. Sam bites his lip in anticipation when he feels the head of his dick press against him. Al takes a deep breath to remind himself not to go in all at once, but with a nod from Sam, he finally, finally, finally eases himself inside.

Sam moans so sweetly when he bottoms out that he cannot contain the deep grunts that escape his throat. Those high little gasps make him sound like he’s an injured thing, and Al has count to twenty-five to keep from coming right then and there.

When he’s all the way inside him, Al leans over him to kiss his shiny cheeks and on his soft lips, completely at a loss for words to describe the simultaneously tender and erotic tendrils that have taken over his body.

“You’re going to kill me, kid. It’s like dying and going to heaven.”

“Don’t die on me now.”

“Not on your life.”

Sam smiles that adorably dopey grin of his, and it feels like the icing on top. He’s got Sam in his bed moaning for him and kissing him. He’s smiling at Al like he’s the sun, and there’s a vice around his dick that he knows he’s going to get addicted to real quick.

But then Sam starts squirming and all coherent thoughts leave his head.

“Gotta move. Please don’t make me wait, Al. I need you.”

Al can't resist a request like that, so he pulls out a bit before pressing in all at once. And it's wonderful and good and _Sam_.

Al nestles his face in the juncture of Sam’s shoulder and neck, burrowing deep and smelling his scent. Sam is warm, and his body is welcoming. They shouldn't fit together, the sensualist and the moralist, but they do. By god, they do. He's happy with what they have. Sam does a wonderful job filling in his empty spaces. He doesn't know what he did to deserve this, but someone out there—God or Time or Fate—thought he was good enough to deserve this.

Al grunts in Sam’s ear as he continues his in-and-out motion. It makes Sam shiver to know that Al is enjoying this as much as he is. It’s good to feel so close to him, so protected and loved.

“You feel so good, Al.”

"Not too bad yourself, kid.”

There's a breathlessness to Al’s voice that shoots pleasure through his veins. It makes him tighten his grip around Al that much tighter. Maybe the Calavicci seduction method worked just fine after all.

Al even has to admit to himself that he hasn’t felt so welcomed and appreciated by anyone since any of his many divorces. They were all bitter partings, and he had never felt whole after that, not even when he was first assigned to the project. Not until Sam. Sam had awoken something inside him that he had long thought was dead. Sam made him feel alive. The arguing, the tension, the sharing of ideas and emotion had been electric. It seems almost inevitable now that they ended up like this: together.

"Are you close, Al?" Sam breathes.

"Are you kidding me?”

Sam’s light laugh turns into deeper moans as he gets closer and closer to the edge with Al right there with him. The two of them keep moving together until it finally breaks over both of them in crashing waves and tiny electric bursts to the tips of Sam’s ears and the bottoms of Al’s feet.

They hold each other close as they catch their breaths again. Al was never going to let Sam out of his sight again.

There's a quiet moment or two, but then Al pipes up with a thought that's been on his mind.

“You never answered my question, you know. From earlier.”

“What question is that?” Sam asks sleepily.

“If you’d ever done this before.”

Al looks up at Sam from where he has his head resting on Sam's chest to find him blushing again. The kid could take it up the ass, but talking about it was far too scandalous.

“You were the first, Al.”

“Sam, no. Are you kidding me? I can’t believe I took the choirboy’s virginity.”

Sam rolls his eyes. 

“Al, you didn’t take my virginity.”

“Maybe not exactly, but...”

Sam chuckles and pulls the blanket up until it’s covering them.

“Let’s get some sleep, okay? We can talk about it in the morning.”

As the questions and possibilities swirl in his head, Al decides a good night’s sleep is just the thing for him as well. Though he has to admit, it’s equally nice to see Sam in his bed as it is to see Sam in an apron in his kitchen the next morning making a deliciously greasy meal.

“Courtesy of Mom Beckett. Hope I got it right.”

Al takes a big bite of scrambled eggs and cheese on his plate and groans.

“It’s perfect. Really.” 

“Thanks, Al.”

“For you, kid? Anything, any time.”


End file.
